Sweet Child of Mine
by StaroftheDunedain
Summary: This will be mostly Roseverse one shots to be updated as I think of them. Rated for safety.
1. Do You Still Wanna Keep Me?

AN: This is pure, pure, pure fluff. Pre-series WeeChesters. New DMW chap should be out soon I promise. Rated G.

It was a Saturday morning and fourteen-year-old Dean was starting to go out of his mind. They were stuck in the middle of nowhere, in a crappy motel that only picked up one station on the crappy television—the news.

Have you ever tried to entertain a hyper four-year-old with the news?

What's more, Sam was sick-the kind of sick that kept Dean awake for pretty much three days straight to check for fever, force orange juice down his throat, and then clean the buckets after the orange juice was thrown up.

John would not let him take Sam to the hospital for the flu since that would alert Social Services, Rose was getting cabin fever, and Dean was about ready to pull his hair out in clumps.

Rose was a very good girl, but she was only four. Her understanding of "Sam is sick" only extended to not getting in his face and to using her crayons to draw lopsided, crooked hearts on newspaper as _get better_ cards.

It did not, unfortunately, extend to not jumping on the squeaky motel couch when Dean had finally, finally gotten Sam asleep.

Dean caught her by the middle mid-jump and hauled her against his chest. She wriggled and squirmed against the too tight grip and accidentally kicked him in the balls.

That was the straw that broke Dean's back.

"Seraphina Rose Winchester!" He hissed, doubled over in pain.

"I'm sworry," she said, instantly repentant, though not sure what she had done. Still, the use of her _big girl name_ signaled that she had done something. "You mad?"

"Yes!" He stood up with a wince, unmoved for once by the big green eyes filling with tears looking up at him.

"I'm sworry," she repeated, bottom lip starting to wobble dangerously.

That was usually when he would pick her up and tell her that it was okay, but Dean was running on no sleep, little food (the smell made Sam feel worse, so he was really only feeding Rose) and worry. "Go outside and play."

She nodded, head hung in shame, and walked out the back door. Dean had already scouted out the backyard; ten square fenced in feet. How much trouble could she possibly get into?

That was a dumb question. She was a Winchester so the answer was obvious. A lot.

He glanced out the window at her a few times while he was doing the dishes. She stayed huddled in one corner. That made him feel slightly guilty. He resolved to take her out for ice cream when Sam was feeling better, just the two of them to make it up to her. He would even let her order him that birthday cake shit she was always trying to get him to eat.

He had only gone a few minutes without checking on her when he thought he heard her say, faintly, what sounded like "bad dog." A spilt second later, he heard her repeat "Bad Dog!" in that shrill scream only little girls can manage.

"What the hell?" Dean started toward the door, breaking into a run when he heard a yelping sort of sound.

He burst through the door and the first thing he saw was a largish dog scurrying through a hole in the fence. The second thing he was his sister standing with muddy knees, a torn jacket sleeve, and a large rock clenched in her small hand.

"I'm sworry!" She said, trying to hide her sleeve behind her back.

He darted over to her and pushed the sleeve up to see some smeared blood and bite marks. "Damn it!"

"I sworry! I didn't mean to!" She started crying. "I didn't rip my sleeve! There was a doggy!"

"I know, I know. I'm not mad." He wiped the blood away with the dish towel still in his hand. "There, that's not too bad. What happened?"

"The dog wanted to eat my kitten." She sniffled, tears stopped at his promise he was not angry, and pointed at the ground and Dean noticed a small mound of gray fur for the first time. "I said that it was bad. Then it bit me. So I hit it."

The bites were not as bad as they could have been, but they needed looking after. "I need to put on some band-aides."

"Can I bring in Bobby?" She picked up the kitten before Dean could answer.

She sat bravely through the cleaning and bandaging process, although the tears threatened to fall when he poured on the antiseptic.

"Rosie," he said quietly when he applied the fourth and final band-aide.

She looked up from the kitten on her lap with a solemn expression too old for a pre-schooler. "I can't keep Bobby, can I?"

"No, Baby girl, you can't."

She sighed the sigh of someone used to it. It made Dean's heart break a little. "I didn't think so." She pulled the purring kitten into a hug. "I'm sworry I was bad earlier." She buried her face in matted, gray fur, sniffling out tears. "Do you still wanna keep _me?_"

At that, Dean's heart broke absolutely in half and then fell out of his chest completely. "Oh, Baby girl…" He plucked the kitten from her arms and set it in the tub, earning a grumpy glare from it that reminded him of its namesake. He pulled his sister into a hug, feeling little girl tears starting to soak through his shirt.

"There's nothing you could possibly do that would ever make me want to give you up."

She nodded and pressed a sloppy, slightly sticky kiss to his cheek. "I wouldn't let anybody make me give you away either," she said seriously.

If Dean found away to smuggle the kitten to Bobby Singer's place than it was just between him, Uncle Bobby, and his sister.


	2. A Hunter and a Hitter Walk Into a Bar

AN: This takes place between The Big Bang Job and The San Lorenzo Job in Leverage time; Early on in and is just a flight of fancy... Eliot sensed the person getting onto the bar stool next to him before he heard the stool move or a woman's voice order a beer.

Disclaimer: I do own Rose, but not Eliot, Leverage, or Supernatural. I wish I did. There would be more crossovers.

He groaned internally. He'd come to this seedy, out of the way dive bar expressly to avoid the giggly or moaning drunk men and women he'd find in a classier place.

Out of the corner of his eye, Eliot looked at his barmate. He saw a small pair of well-worn sneakers, faded blue jeans, and an equally faded plaid shirt that was far too large on the petite form over a tighter blue t-shirt. The half of her face he could see was pretty with a little upturned nose, youth, and a surprising lack of makeup. She had long, dark, wavy brown hair in a ponytail. She did not look like your average, 11:30 pm barfly, especially not in a place as rough as the one they were in.

"Have I got something on my face?" she asked in a polite but slightly impatient voice.

He almost, _almost_, startled. Most people never noticed when he was observing them when he didn't want them to. "You don't look like you belong here."

He might possibly have said that too aggressively, but he didn't care.

She shrugged. "You're not the first person to tell me something like that."

"Then maybe you oughtta just go back to the sorority house," he snapped.

She snorted. "I'm not exactly the sorority row type." She sipped her beer and smirked.

"No, you're more like the drop-out-of-school-to-form-a-grunge-band-in-mom's-garage-type," he snarled, almost hoping she would throw the beer in his face and stalk out. At least she'd be gone and he could brood without anyone in his space.

"Three problems with that," she retorted, sounding pissed, and understandably so, as hell. "One, I don't like grunge. Two, I dropped out to help in the family business. And three, my mom died when I was six months old. Now, I dunno what's wrong with you, but all I did was sit down and order a beer. If you've got a problem with that, you can go screw yourself 'cause I'm not leaving 'till I want to." To make her point, she took a loud sip and planted herself a little more comfortably on her stool.

God help him but Eliot wanted to knock her off of it. He didn't because a: she was a girl, b: he deserved it, and c: it was his job to control his own violence. But he wanted to.

After three minutes (he counted) of extremely tense silence, he heard her take a deep breath and say "I'm sorry."

That startled him into actually looking her full in the face. "What?"

He noticed that her profile didn't do her justice. She was a beauty. And just a kid. If she was old enough for that beer than he was a hacker.

"I'm never going to see you again; I should've just risen above it and let you keep your sour mood to yourself. But I've had a rough day and I didn't, so, sorry."

"Damnit," he mumbled, feeling guilty for verbally lashing out at an innocent bystander. It was an unusual thing for him, well, not to do, but to feel guilty about. Apparently those huge green and gold-flecked eyes made it possible. "You didn't do anything." It was the closest to an apology he was going to give a complete stranger.

A minute later, a fresh glass was put in front of his nearly empty one. "Did you just buy me a drink?"

"Yep. I've got older brothers so I know that generally, when a man is that grumpy, he's had a terrible day."

"I'm not gonna tell you all about it," he said fiercely.

"Wasn't asking you to," she said quickly. "I don't want any cheesy bar scenes. I was just being nice."

"Well, aren't you an angel," he mocked, even though he was grateful for the alcohol.

For some reason, this struck her as extremely funny and she doubled over on her stool with laughter for a moment. "God, I hope not."

"You're weird." He was a little shocked to find that he was a lot less angry than he had been twenty minutes ago.

"No, I'm Rose," she said without skipping a beat. "Rose Winchester. I'd offer my hand, but I'm not sure you won't try to break it."

He chuckled. "Eliot Spencer." He offered his own palm. He was surprised by the calluses he could feel on hers. "You really do look out of place," he said conversationally.

She laughed. "What's funny about that is that I grew up in places like this."

Eliot looked around. "Rough place for a kid."

"Part of the family apprenticeship," she explained, smiling at her beer.

"What does your family do?" he asked.

"Would you believe it if I said we were bounty hunters?"

"Nope."

"Then I won't," she said with a grin.

"Fair enough," he said with a laugh. "Where're you from?"

She frowned thoughtfully. "Kansas technically, but when Mom died, Dad got a new job and we never stayed anywhere else longer than a month so... I am from the backseat of the family '67 Impala." She smiled and swished her beer around in the bottle. "What about you?"

"Kentucky, but I left when I was a teenager."

"Kept the accent," she remarked.

"Only thing I liked about the place," he said bitterly.

"Now you're from here?"

"Naw, just in town for a job."

"What do you do?"

_I beat up people. I'm a thief. I'm a member of a modern day Robin Hood's Merry Men. _"Would you believe me if I said I was a private detective?"

She laughed. "Nope."

"Then I won't."

She laughed again. "Touché." She raised her beer in a toast. "Here's to being a couple of shady characters."

"I'll drink to that."

She stood up after the clink. "Ok, this is getting waaay to close to a chick-flick moment for my taste. Wanna play pool 'till my ride get here?"

"Love to," he agreed, glad to get away from the cheese factor himself.

He followed her to the pool table and the way she moved was the most surprising thing yet. She moved like a predator. No wasted movements, no uncertain steps, just smooth grace. She moved like he himself did. Eliot knew he could fight and he was prepared to admit that was a little unnerving in someone like Rose.

"I've got a question, Rosie..."

"Rose," she corrected immediately like it was some sort of unintentional insult.

"Why'd you sit next to me? This place ain't exactly crowded."

An odd, closed, familiar look came over her face. "No reason," she said evenly. "You wanna break?"

That was a lie. She chose that seat because it was one of two in the bar where you could see every door and window-the same reason Eliot chose his. He didn't comment on that though, just let her take the first shot.

After that, he had to concentrate on the game. Which he hadn't had to do in years.

"Been a long time," he complained good naturedly once the game was over, "since I had my ass handed to me at pool."

"You gave me a run for my money," she disagreed, pocketing the twenty bucks she had just won off of him.

"Whatever." They ordered their refills. "You mentioned you've got brothers..."

"Two. Both older."

"They the ones that taught you how to play pool?"

She smiled fondly as she thought about it. "Yeah, well, Dean did. Sam taught me how to read." She laughed quietly as some private memory. "What about you, Eliot? You have any family?"

Maybe it was because of the soft look on her face when she talked about her brothers, but the answer hurt more than it usually did. "No."

She gave him an odd look. "You sure about that?"

"Say again?" He asked, sure that he'd misheard. "I'd know if I had relatives."

"I didn't ask about relatives. I asked about family."

"Same damn thing."

"No," she corrected, shaking her head. "My biological uncle and I are NOT family because I don't even know the man. There's a limit to what I'd do for him. My brothers on the other hand...I'd do ANYTHING for them. We'd go to hell for each other." This made her laugh darkly for a moment like it was twistedly funny. "But Cas and I are family too and I just met him not too long ago..."

"Adopted brother?"

"Not sibling feelings," she said slowly.

"Oh."

She laughed. "Not like that, it's just...I dunno how exactly to classify him. But he's family."

He nodded slowly. "I actually understand that."

"I ask again, got any family?"

For some reason, this answer hurt more. "I think I used to."

"That why you were so miserable?" He nodded. "Don't worry too much about it, Eliot."

He shook his head. "You don't understand. They just found out about something I did once..."

She shrugged. "Think we all get along great all of the time? Sam and Dean have gotten into more than one fistfight. Horrible things have been said by all three of us. There are lots of regrets." The look on her face was too damn old for someone so damn young. "And whoever said that you can't hate someone you love is full of shit because there are times when I have hated them both so much I thought I was going to crawl out of my skin. But that's the best part about family." She looked him straight in the eye and smiled. "They always move on and, eventually, forgive you. And they're always there when you need them."

Eliot was saved having to answer when the door opened and two men walked in, blinking at the smoky light. One was in a leather jacket and one was freakishly tall. They both moved like Rose.

Who smiled when she saw them. "Hey, guys, I'm over here," she called from their corner. "Sam, Dean, this is Eliot."

Sam smiled and shook his hand (he could see Rose's hair and white teeth) in a massive paw. Dean just looked at him suspiciously with Rose's green/gold eyes and skin tone. "You ok, Rosie?"

She and Sam both rolled their eyes. "Just a friendly game, Dean," she said patiently.

Dean and Eliot sized each other up, predator to predator. Dean broke first when Sam coughed conspicuously. "Ready to go?"

"Give me one sec...?"

Dean had to be reluctantly pulled away by his brother. If it hadn't been pure over protectiveness, Eliot would have been offended, but Rose was someone worth protecting so he wasn't. Much.

She wrote her number down on a napkin. "Give me a call if anything weird happens."

Eliot took it and frowned, puzzled. "Like what?"

"You'll know it when it happens." She patted his arm. "Take care, Eliot."

"You too, Rose."

He watched her walk away, an arm around each brother's waist. Then he put the ear bud in for the first time since confessing at HQ about helping Moreau. "Anybody there?"

"Eliot! Man," Hardison's voice responded immediately. "Damn it is good to hear your voice. We were all starting to get freaked. No more of this emo, going off on your own to brood and be Batman stuff. You all right?"

"I'm ok." He was surprised when he realized that he meant it. "I'll be back soon."


	3. New Kid in Town

AN: Random oneshot about Rose in boarding school…

Disclaimer: I own Carol but nothing else

Carol noticed the new girl immediately. Well, not entirely true. She noticed the _man_ with the new girl immediately, because, holy hell what kind of hormonal teenage girl would not notice the 6 feet of gorgeous man standing next to a hot, black muscle car. Her overactive imagination was already running away with images of him looking up, noticing her, smiling, and opening the door for her with a come-hither nod. So what if he was at least 8 years older and laughably out of her league? It was her fantasy dang it!

She got so caught up in staring at Mr. Right that she almost missed the girl who came around the car. At Evenwood, new girls stopped showing up after first grade, so Newbie was almost as interesting as her…brother, maybe. Carol was going to go with brother. From a distance, they looked nothing alike, but there was something in the way that they stood; loose but predatory in a way that even Carol could recognize that marked them as the same blood.

Newbie had a green duffle bag with her, almost as big as she was, but it was slung over her shoulder as easily as if it was an extension of herself.

Newbie and Hot Guy exchanged some words, but even with her face practically pressed against the dorm window, Carol could not make out what they said. Newbie was tense, one hand braced on the car like she needed it for strength. Hot Guy had his body angled toward her, hands deep in his jean pockets. Carol had seen people say good-bye a hundred times, seen them say good-bye for the first time. She was an old hand at it, but there was something heartbreaking about the distance between these siblings, a hurt that radiated from the sister and plea that radiated from the brother.

Newbie turned on her heel, movement almost military sharp, and started walking away. Hot Guy also turned, but then Newbie dropped her duffle and ran over to wrap her arms around his middle. Just watching through the window, Carol felt like an intruder. When she looked back up from the floor, Hot Guy was leaning against his car, watching his sister walk away like his whole world was packed in her bag.

Newbie did not look back.

About ten minutes later, Carol was lying on her bed with a copy of vogue, listening to the chatter of two other girls unpacking. She glanced up and saw Newbie walking into the room. Carol was expecting tear-stained cheeks, smudged makeup, red-rimmed eyes, something to show her emotional state. However, Newbie looked calm, and, shockingly, a lot younger than Carol was expecting, only about 12 or so.

She crossed the floor to hoist her bag onto the bed next to Carol's. Carol realized, looking at the empty space all around the bed, that it was all she had in the world.

"You get the dresser," Carol said, pointing to the chest of drawers on the opposite side of the bed. "And we share the wardrobe between us. Carol had mostly filled it already, but Newbie did not even open it. She just nodded and walked over to the dresser. Carol saw a drawer filled with uniforms and saw Newbie's mouth give a wry smile that made her look older.

"So, he's gorgeous," Carol said, and then winced at her verbal diarrhea.

Newbie did not smile, exactly, but her face lightened. "She. A car is a she. Especially the Impala."

"I meant your brother."

"Oh." Newbie shrugged. "I never noticed."

Apparently good genes ran in the family. Newbie had two of the greenest eyes Carol had ever seen, wavy, thick, dark-brown hair, semi-permanent tan, full, pink lips, and eyelashes that made Carol want to weep with envy.

It took only a few moments for Newbie to unpack her things, but Carol had already turned back to her magazine.

"Hey," Newbie's voice made her blink. "I need to make a phone call. Is there any place private I can go?"

"On move-in day?" Carol laughed and then felt a little bad about it. "This is as private as you're going to get and that won't be for much longer."

Newbie frowned, but then seemed to accept it with the air of someone used to accepting the unpleasant. She leant against the footboard of her bed and dialed a number with a cell phone, which made Carol even more jealous.

Someone answered almost a second after she put it up to her ear. "Hey…Well, I'm all moved in...No, no I'm okay…" She looked torn between laughter and tears. "Really, I'm okay, you don't have to come get me…You made your choice; you have your own life now!" She winced. "That came out harsher than I meant…I know, Sammy" there was so much love poured into those two syllables that it made Carol ache just a little. "I promise…Bye."

In fit of emotion, she tossed the phone onto the bed and herself after. She laid her head on her pillow and let out a choked off sob, before biting down on her fear and homesickness with practiced self-control. It made her look so much older that made 14 year-old Carol feel like a baby. Newbie sat up, her body stiff as though daring anyone to look for signs of a breakdown. Her eyes though, were still young and lost.

"Hi," Carol said softly. "I'm Carol Warner."

"Rose," the other girl said, with a soft smile that transformed her face and made her into a child again. "Rose Winchester."


End file.
